I find myself
mourning the illusion of our love.
I don’t miss you,
my heart longs to be recognized by another
deceived to believe that needs to be you.
In a weak and weary state
it’s easy to idolize our time together
neglecting to recall all the pain
the hurt, the turmoil
of two titans colliding.
The downfall of our hearts
the events that tore us apart
scars of my failures etched in our blood
painting a picture of a love found wanting.
The fruit of my lust sown to fruition
seeds of desolate and selfish decisions
will I ever feel less unforgivable?
Standing now
a torn and tattered canvas
set apart as I seek resolve
resisting love’s call, awaiting absolution.
Tides of the Enigma 